


Happy At Home

by EmAndFandems



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27448756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems
Summary: The blankets are thick, the pillows are fluffed, andreallythis is a completely unreasonable time of the morning for any angel to leave his demon alone.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 124





	Happy At Home

**Author's Note:**

> Find this story on tumblr [here](https://lazarusemma.tumblr.com/post/634197694065278976/mmmmph-come-back-to-bed-you-know-the-shop)! Title from Queen's "You're My Best Friend." Of course.

“Mmmmph... Come back to bed.”

“You know the shop opens in fifteen minutes, dear.”

Crowley groans. “Doesn’t  _ have _ to. You don’t even  _ want _ to.”

Aziraphale makes a noise like _tsk_ and leans to press a quick kiss to the back of Crowley’s head. “Always with the tempting,” he says, but he doesn’t sound too put out about this.

“M’ _ right,” _ says Crowley into the pillow. “You’d rather be here than fending off customers... No reason to put yourself through all that... Bed’s still warm...”

It  _ is, _ too, mostly because Crowley wants it to be: cosy and comfy and perfectly, tantalizingly warm. The blankets are thick, the pillows are fluffed, and  _ really _ this is a completely unreasonable time of the morning for any angel to leave his demon alone. When Crowley says as much, Aziraphale is heartless enough to laugh.

“You could come down to the shop if you mind so much,” he says, to which Crowley makes a noncommittal noise that means  _ I will, because you want me to, but I’ll complain the entire time. _

It’s nice, this game they play now. Where Aziraphale pretends the shop has actual hours of business and Crowley grumbles about things that don’t matter and they both can take full breaths of the late-morning air. This is what days look like now, since, after. A growing familiarity with okayness. With happiness. They’re learning quickly, together.

“Could make breakfast,” Crowley offers, rolling onto his back to see Aziraphale’s reaction to this declaration of love. “Bring it down to you.”

“Ooh, yes,” Aziraphale says, beaming, and then consults his pocket watch, because he still has a pocket watch, and oh, Crowley loves him. “Only it might be an early lunch rather.”

“Mm. Keep that in mind when I’m coming up with the menu, I s’pose.” Crowley grins lazily, watching Aziraphale pat at his pockets to confirm he’s ready to leave the bedroom, all set to open for business. “Wait, wait, before you go—!”

Dutifully, Aziraphale approaches as Crowley manages to get himself upright in bed for a kiss. “I really have to be going, my dear, I’ll be late.”

“You  _ want _ to be late. One more.”

This is what mornings look like: tangled blankets and sleep-mussed hair and silly flirtations. Finding slippers and filling the flat with the smell of baking and frightening off customers because it’s our lunch break, honestly, read the sign please, no it’s very plainly written out right there, I can’t help it if you didn’t see, but we’re very busy and please come back another time, or don’t, I doubt we have what you’re looking for in any case. Stolen kisses behind the counter and interlocked fingers between the bookshelves and smiles that speak of a shared secret which doesn’t have to be kept quiet any longer.

And mornings sound like a hundred different things, the laughter of a half-joking complaint and the _tink!_ of the front door’s bell and the sizzle of a well-oiled pan. A hundred different things to see and hear and experience together, but mostly what it sounds like is very simple.  _ I love you, I love you, I love you. _


End file.
